


Every New Beginning

by Brumeier



Series: As Seen On TV [8]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Alternate Universe - Fusion, First Kiss, Friendship, M/M, New Year's Eve, New Year's Kiss, New Year's Resolutions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-01 22:21:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17252459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brumeier/pseuds/Brumeier
Summary: It's New Year's Eve at the Blue Yonder bar, and in the midst of all the partying John gets a very unexpected kiss at midnight.





	Every New Beginning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SherlockianSyndromes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlockianSyndromes/gifts).



> TV Fusion: Cheers

“You ready, boss?” Aiden asked, looking over his shoulder at John. 

“As I’ll ever be. Let’s do it.”

Aiden unlocked the door and plugged in the neon sign that would let people know they were open. John ran over his mental checklist one last time. He’d placed an extra big order that week in preparation for the city’s annual Pearl Crawl. John’s bar was normally a quiet neighborhood place that had a stalwart group of regulars and the occasional drop-in from the restaurant upstairs, but during the Crawl there’d be drunken revelers in and out all night, looking for drinks and stamps in their special event passports.

John liked the additional revenue, but he hated the bigger crowds.

Ronon was the first one through the door, dressed as usual like an extra in a swashbuckling pirate movie. He managed to pull off the leather pants and billowing white shirt like no-one else could.

“Reporting for duty,” he said.

“Appreciate it,” John replied. 

Ronon was one of his regulars who’d offered to act as bouncer for the night. Not many people messed with him just because of his sheer size and muscle, but he was a pretty chill guy most of the time. He ran a martial arts studio down the street and wrote poetry that he’d perform at the monthly open mic nights at O’Neill’s Pub on 5th.

John set him up just inside the door with a pub table and a chair, and the Blue Yonder bi-plane stamp that anyone participating in the Crawl would get. Ronon wouldn’t have to worry about money, since there was never a cover charge.

“Free beers all night, as we discussed,” John said, and set the first mug of Guinness on the table. Ronon liked his beer dark and strong. “You get hungry, let Aiden or Jennifer know, we can grab you something.”

Blue Yonder didn’t have a kitchen, but they could order food from The Captain’s Table upstairs or run outside to the taco truck that would be parked in front of the bar for the duration of the Crawl.

“Got it.” Ronon pulled a battered notebook out of his back pocket and settled in at his station. 

Jennifer came in from the back room, trying her half apron around her waist. She was a med student, deceptively baby-faced, and excellent at remembering drink orders.

“Hope everyone has comfortable shoes on tonight,” she said. She pulled her hair back into a sloppy ponytail. “Hey, Ronon.”

Ronon gave Jennifer a distracted nod, but she was already on the move to put bowls of pretzels and popcorn out on the tables. John took the opportunity to pull Aiden aside.

“Keep the fancy moves to a minimum tonight. We won’t have time to clean up broken glass.”

“You got it, boss,” Aiden said, snapping off a salute.

John rolled his eyes. He appreciated Aiden’s enthusiasm, but he could be a bit impulsive. Sometimes he also seemed to think he was Tom Cruise’s character in _Cocktail_ , to the detriment of John’s expensive bottles of booze.

The door opened, and the first customer of the night came in, bundled up in a coat, a long blue scarf, and a red and white knit cap with CANADA on it in large letters. John was already reaching for a martini glass.

“Hey, Chuck.”

Chuck peeled himself out of his cold-weather clothes, hanging the coat up on one of the hooks along the wall by the door.

“Temperature is dropping out there. Gonna be a cold Crawl this year.” He took a seat at the bar, set down the tablet that went everywhere with him, and accepted the apple martini from John. “Boy, do I need this today.”

He’d barely taken a sip of his drink before his cell phone rang. Chuck was technical support for a communications company and he never seemed to be off the clock. 

And then the first group of Crawlers came in, wearing glittery paper hats and beads, all of them brandishing their passports for Ronon to stamp before doing a round of shots at the bar.

“Cheers!” they all shouted on their way back out the door.

It was busy from there on out. The Captain’s Table must’ve been fully booked, because a lot of dinner patrons waited for their tables down at the bar. They ordered the fancier mixed drinks and high-end beers, for the most part. The Crawlers were mostly doing shot or cheaper draft brews. The regulars had all come early to get the tables, which Jennifer was frequently clearing of empty bottles and glasses and wrappers from the taco truck, while also filling orders and making sure the snack bowls stayed filled.

Still, despite all the noise and extra bodies, John knew the exact moment Rodney stepped inside the bar.

“I hate this inane bar crawl!” Rodney shouted. “Rum and Coke. Light on the Coke.”

John bit back a grin. Rodney was their resident Brainiac, often scribbling complex equations on bar napkins, and once on the bathroom wall when he’d been particularly inspired. John could follow along with most of the math, but the higher science concepts usually left him just as mystified as everyone else in the bar was.

“No corporate party this year?” John asked, leaning close to be heard. Well, not _just_ to be heard.

Rodney made a rude gesture. “No. Not that this mosh pit is any better.” He downed half his drink in one go and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. “God, that’s good.”

In the years since he’d opened Blue Yonder, John had received countless offers from both sexes for some no-strings-attached sex. There had only been one person he’d have taken up on that – with strings _fully_ attached – but of course Rodney had never asked. It was possible he didn’t swing that way, though John was certain he’d seen him checking out men as well as women.

“Did you eat?” John asked. He knew Rodney sometimes overlooked a meal or two if he was deep in a project, and he was prone to hypoglycemia.

Rodney waved his hand at the door. “Tacos.”

John made sure he had a full bowl of pretzels anyway, and then he was pulled away to help Aiden fill more orders.

Ronon had to forcibly remove three inebriated young men, one of whom was wearing a diaper and a Baby New Year sash over his clothes, who hadn’t taken kindly to two women kissing in a corner booth.

“Intolerance will _not_ be tolerated!” John shouted at them, pointing to the same proclamation on the sign over the bar for emphasis. As if the rainbow sticker on the door wasn’t indication enough that Blue Yonder was a safe place for everyone, regardless of sexual orientation. When John cut his ties with the Air Force, he’d cut his ties with anything or anyone suggesting there was something wrong with same-sex couples.

The guys flipped him off, but they didn’t give Ronon much trouble.

About an hour before midnight Evan came downstairs with a tray of delicate champagne-flavored pastries. He was the pastry chef at the restaurant and frequently made extras of his creations to share. Rodney made to grab one, but Evan deftly moved out of the way.

“Sorry, Doc. Citrus in these. I’ll have some chocolate cakes later.”

John didn’t miss the fact that Ronon got two, plus a very quick kiss on the mouth. Evan most likely wouldn’t be able to sneak away at midnight, so John didn’t begrudge him getting his New Year’s kiss in early.

A large group of girls came in, all dressed inappropriately for the weather and wearing sashes with the upcoming year written on them in glitter. 

“Make sure you card them,” John advised Aiden. They looked like they might be a sorority and it was always better to err on the side of caution where college kids were concerned.

When John was able to make it back around to Rodney, the man was talking about resolutions with Teyla.

“I would like to find a better balance between my work and my family,” Teyla said, sipping serenely at a strawberry daiquiri. “My focus tends to fall on one to the detriment of the other.”

“At least you have a family to try not to ignore,” Rodney replied, looking woefully into his empty glass. “I can’t even get dating right.”

“Perhaps you over think it. Have you tried acting on your gut feeling? Being more spontaneous?”

Rodney snorted. “Of course not. You know me. I have to think of all the worst-case scenarios first, and by that time I’ve scared the other person away.”

John fixed him another drink. “It’s not easy being a genius.”

“Like you’d know,” Rodney said, without any real malice. “How about you, John? Any New Year resolutions? Maybe finding some hair product with better hold?”

“At least I have hair,” John shot back, grinning when Rodney reached up to pat his receding hairline. “I don’t bother with resolutions, unless you count making it through another year without the bar going under.”

“Maybe this is the year he resolves to get an actual bar theme,” Jennifer suggested as she breezed past, tray laden with empty beer bottles.

“She’s got a point,” Rodney said. “Airplanes and Johnny Cash? They don’t really go together.”

“Yes, they do. Because I like them, and it’s my bar, and the rest of you can shut up about it.”

When it was fifteen minutes to midnight, John switched the big screen TV from ESPN to the local station, which was broadcasting from South Pier Seaport. The giant pearl, created from countless tiny white lights wrapped around a white framework, was waiting to be dropped from the crane. It was the local version of New York City’s ball drop.

Jennifer passed around noisemakers and John started pouring champagne into clear plastic cups. True to his word, Evan returned to make another dessert pass, this time with chocolate cakes. John gave his to Rodney, with a shrug like it was no big deal. Rodney’s crooked mouth twisted up into a smile.

A hush fell over the bar in the moment before the countdown started, broken only by Chuck on his cell phone.

“Try turning it off and turning it back on again.”

And then everyone was counting down from ten as the pearl made its slow descent down the cable. 

Ten!

Nine!

“John.”

Eight!

Seven!

“John! Over here!” Rodney was waving his arms wildly, almost knocking Teyla off her stool.

Six! 

Five!

“What is it?” John asked, tearing his eyes off the TV. He leaned over the bar so he could hear Rodney better.

Four!

Three!

“I wanted to ask you…that is, I thought we could…”

Two!

One!

“Fuck it.” Rodney surged up over the bar from his side and planted his lips on John’s while a cacophony of noisemakers sounded off and everyone wished each other a Happy New Year.

John froze for a second before he got with the program, steadying Rodney’s head with his hands and fixing the angle for better access. Rodney was a damn good kisser, and for however long that kiss lasted – seconds, hours – everything else bled away and there was only Rodney and only John, their mouths sealed together.

Rodney tasted like chocolate and rum.

When they pulled apart, John was a bit too breathless. The sound of the bar washed back over him like a wave. 

“Going with your gut?” he couldn’t help asking.

“I’m resolving to be better at relationships,” Rodney replied, and John was pretty sure he was blushing, though it was hard to tell in the dim lighting.

“Maybe I could help with that.”

“Maybe you could.” Rodney started to move back in for another kiss, but then Aiden was there giving John a bearhug, and the regular patrons all wanted to wish him a Happy New Year.

Later, when the crowd was finally thinning out and Aiden didn’t need John’s help behind the bar anymore, John pulled Rodney into the office and locked the door.

“What does your resolution say about putting out on the first date?” John asked, backing Rodney against the wall.

“We’re not having sex on that ratty couch, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Rodney replied, looking disdainfully at the couch in question. Which was all the answer John needed.

“I’ll be closing up soon. Walk me home?” He waggled his eyebrows.

“You’re ridiculous.” Rodney rolled his eyes, but there was more kissing and maybe a little groping.

John didn’t believe in resolutions. But he saw no reason why he shouldn’t start the new year off on the right foot. He hummed _Closing Time_ while he kissed Rodney, ready to close the door on a lonely year and start fresh.

_Closing time_   
_Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end_

**Author's Note:**

>  **AN:** This was going to be my final prompt fill for the year. But when I pulled up the prompt, it was for a different fandom. And all the fun fic thoughts I had were for this fandom. So, not exactly a prompt fill. But definitely inspired by a prompt. (Sorry, SherlockianSyndromes! I was close!) 
> 
> Happy New Year to all my readers, lurkers and commenters alike! I hope you have a safe and happy holiday, and a good start to 2019!
> 
> Title from the song _Closing Time_ by Semisonic.


End file.
